


Day 29 - Blankets

by marvel_and_mischief



Series: December Writing Challenge [29]
Category: Inside Llewyn Davis (2013), Oscar Isaac - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Llewyn remembers when blankets played an important role in certain moments of his life
Relationships: Llewyn Davis/Reader, Llewyn Davis/You
Series: December Writing Challenge [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035513
Kudos: 5





	Day 29 - Blankets

It was the simplest thing to take for granted. Being warm and comfortable, loved and looked after. For Llewyn, that was what a blanket symbolised. 

It was the love that went into the thick woollen blanket his grandmother knitted for him when he was born, that he would carry around everywhere he went as a toddler, drag behind him through the dirt of the garden and the food crumbs on the kitchen floor. He remembers the night before his first day of school, six years old, about to fall asleep with that blanket in his hands when his mother came and sat beside him on his bed. 

“Llewyn, you know you’re going to big boy school tomorrow,” her voice was always sweet and soothed him down to his bones, but there was something in her voice that night, telling him that what she had to say was very important and there was no room for argument, a sternness that made his heart quicken and the grip on his blanket tighten. 

“Big boys don’t have baby blankets,” his mother had whispered, smoothing back the curls of his hair until he fell asleep, tears falling onto the pillow he laid his head on. He never saw the blanket again, and for weeks afterwards he would cry himself to sleep, wishing he wouldn’t have to grow up if it meant keeping that blanket. 

When Llewyn received his first pay check from his and Mike’s _‘If We Had Wings’_ record sales, Mike had asked him what he was going to splash the cash on. A nice car to cruise around New York in? A celebration party with his friends from The Gaslight? Llewyn had smiled secretively, not wanting to admit what he really wanted to buy. 

A fine, cashmere blanket in the window of a fabric shop had caught his eye. It had an orange and red tartan pattern, long white tassels along all four sides, it screamed high quality and he imagined all the evenings he would wrap himself up in it, guitar in hand, creating music in his new apartment. 

He felt so proud of himself when the cashier handed it to him over the counter, wrapped in delicate, white tissue paper and held safe in a fancy blue branded bag. For the first time Llewyn felt like he was making a mark on the world, he was going places and this blanket was proof of that. He was leaving the old Llewyn behind and moving onto bigger and better things. 

When Mike died Llewyn lost everything. Not just a best friend, but his sense of purpose, his self confidence, and with that went away commercially sellable music which led to him being kicked out of his apartment. He sold most of his belongings but he kept the blanket, carried it around in his guitar case where it was safe, as a promise to himself that things would get better, he just had to wait it out. 

Things didn’t get better though, and Llewyn had to use the blanket for its intended purpose, when his coat wasn’t sufficient in keeping him warm during his homelessness, and then before he knew it the blanket was dirty from park benches and the rain had ruined the silky soft quality of the cashmere. He had to throw it away eventually, along with any hope that his life would improve. 

But it did improve. It took a few years of Llewyn pulling himself up, surrounding himself with supportive friends, rebuilding his relationships with his father and sister and eventually his career was taking off (again). And when he was doing better he took care of himself, he was happier in himself, he socialised frequently and more often than not had a smile on his face. 

With a roof over his head, food in his belly and a regular income from his record sales, he put himself out there and came across you. 

Llewyn didn’t want to say that you filled a hole in his life _(heart)_ but with everything else in his life going well, he had began to turn to the one thing he didn’t have. If he was being honest with himself he was afraid. Relationships had failed spectacularly in the past, the emotional abuse he’d faced from Jean had sworn him off anything serious for the rest of his life. 

You had been patient with Llewyn, offering friendship and kindness and nothing more if he didn’t want that with you. You met up for coffee often, spent your days off being tourists in the city, sat for hours in the park either in silence or making small talk between bites of sandwiches or having deep conversations. It didn’t matter because being with each other was easy. It didn’t feel like effort, there wasn’t a nervousness between two people that hardly knew one another, there wasn’t a need to fill silence, you were both happy to just be in each other’s company. 

That’s when Llewyn knew what you two had was special. You didn’t start off dating, or sleeping together, you were friends first and anything else that came from it would be a bonus. 

Llewyn had invited you to his apartment for the first time a few months into your friendship. He wanted to try out his new material on you and needed your honest opinion. He had just put the kettle on when you knocked on the door. Hurrying through his apartment, a skip in his step and a bright smile on his face, he was pleased to see it was you, bundled up to protect yourself from the Winter weather, a bag in hand. 

You kissed him on the cheek in greeting and removed your layers before following Llewyn into the kitchen where he made you a hot drink. 

“I got you something, a housewarming present,” you motioned to the bag you had placed on the island, a Cheshire Cat smile on your face as you waited for Llewyn to unwrap his present. 

“You shouldn’t have,” Llewyn’s smile was bashful, unused to receiving gifts from anyone. He pulled open the top of the bag and peered inside, the gift wrapped in copious amounts of tissue paper which he proceeded to rip apart to get to the present itself. He paused when he saw the blanket, folded up neatly at the bottom of the bag. He ran his fingers over the wispy material, soft against his calloused fingertips. The dark blues and blacks would fit nicely with his apartment, he thought. 

Llewyn’s eyes were watery when he looked up at you, and your smile dropped momentarily before he pulled you into a tight hug, keeping you in his strong arms until his tears had passed and the coffee had gone cold.


End file.
